The landline is dead – and so we say farewell to an era of phone civility

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We all have one lurking somewhere. Tucked dustily away in the dark recesses of the kitchen counter; alone and unloved on the hall table or, as in my case, hidden behind a curtain on the sitting-room windowsill. No matter how sleek, ergonomic or discreet they try to be, they are dinosaurs from another age, relics that are increasingly left unused and ignored.

Don’t believe me? Then ask one of my mobile-fixated generation when was the last time they used a landline, other than to take a call from a resolutely analogue parent or grandparent, or perhaps to enjoy the satisfaction of a short, sharp exchange with a cold-caller?

Maureen Lipman in a BT advert: these days, the only person likely to call you on a landline is your Granny

Hurrah! many will shout, after all these years of grudgingly forking over £25 a month for the privilege of making and receiving about three calls. No longer will we be subject to these ridiculous charges, just for the privilege of surfing the web. Can we disable the number, too, to avoid the cold callers – and maybe persuade the grandparents to call us on our mobiles at last?

"I would hesitate to say I enjoy maths but I can appreciate and admire its elegance; in my early teens I was blown away by the the Fibonacci sequence"

And yet, and yet… there is much to mourn in the passing of the landline.

Correct telephone etiquette for one. Correctly answering a phone politely (give your name or number so the person calling knows who is picking up, and that they have called the right house), and making a cordial call (introduce yourself when the recipient answers) are increasingly dying arts in a mobile world where everyone can see who’s ringing them, and the caller knows that only one person is likely to answer.

Then there’s the art of talking to a different generation – one to whom you are not related. Those phone calls where you were trying to reach your best friend, or boyfriend could be social agony that only a teenager could suffer or comprehend. The breathless hope when dialling that your pal would be the first to pick up, thus mitigating the floundering. The sweaty palms and dry mouth when your prayer went unanswered and you had to greet a terrifying father in a timid tone (“Er, is Steve, er, there?”). The wasted minutes as you waited for the distant bellow that would alert said pal/boyfriend to your presence.

But at least it taught us how to be polite and friendly to older people. In today’s world of Whatsapp and Snapchat, Facebook and Twitter, the youngcommunicate in text and symbols and videos. They can “sext”. They barely make phone calls to each other any more, let alone one that might involve parents, either their own or someone else’s. As for learning telephone numbers off by heart (I can still recall the digits of my dearest friends) - forget it.

Who needs a landline to call the boyfriend these days? Credit:
Alamy Stock Photo/Posed by models

So yes, while the smartphone generation hails the convenience of the mobile and roll their eyes when elderly parents refuse to switch theirs on unless they need to make a call (assuming they can find it, of course) let us raise a glass to the glories of the landline – and remember what those immobile plastic lumps gave us: patience, the freedom to get on with life without the expectation of constant availability, and the ability to make a call unconcerned by feeble batteries or patchy signals. Mine is inexplicably broken. It makes me strangely anxious. I must fix it – my mother may be calling.